Peter Gunn, a wallet thief and a second chance: Lee Rood

As a reporter, Lee Rood is normally the person behind the story. But when she became the story, she confronted truths about her industry and herself in ways she never imagined.

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Register reporter Lee Rood tells her story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines.(Photo: Michael Zamora/The Register)Buy Photo

Investigative reporters are taught and encouraged to keep pressing, to keep digging, until they get closer to the truth.

Do that for years, and it spills into your personal life.

My friends can tell you any number of stories about how my inability to retreat can get a bit weird.

Suffice to say, I’m no peach to date. (At least not until after the background check.)

But this particular story begins on a cold January night in 2012, over white wine and calamari.

I was out with two old friends, Suzanne, a lawyer in town, and Rekha. After dinner, I asked one of them to drop me at the Greenwood Lounge so I could catch one of my favorite bands.

Walking into the Greenwood on a Friday night is like that movie, “Groundhog’s Day.”

Always crowded. Always dark. The bathrooms are always a little Third World-esque.

But it’s fun; people are dancing and there are always friendly faces holding up the bar.

The Wood is a Register hangout going way back.

It’s where I spent my first Friday night in Des Moines more than 20 years ago after we put the weekend copy to bed. And it’s probably where I’ll spend my last Friday after I hang up my notebook for good.

The Wood is also where I met my second husband, Paul. He’s an old-school gentleman who worked there six nights a week for more than 25 years, until we tied the knot in 2010.

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Register reporter Lee Rood tells her story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines.(Photo: Michael Zamora/The Register)

Peter Gunn

Friends tease that Paul and I got together because he kept me well-served. While there is a grain of truth to that, we had a lot in common.

He actually really wanted to be a detective or private investigator.

I was an investigator, only for the local newspaper.

Because of our jobs — reporter and bartender — we’d both heard a lot of interesting stories about strange things happening in town … and plenty of bulls---.

Paul left the Greenwood in 2010 because, after 25 years, he’d heard enough bulls---.

He used to tell me his only recurring nightmare was that it was closing time and nobody would leave.

After he quit, he couldn’t shake the late hours. So we would stay up and watch spaghetti westerns and this old '50s noir series, "Peter Gunn."

Peter Gunn was a private investigator who did his work out of a darkly lit lounge called Mother’s. He had this girlfriend Edie, a lounge singer with a silky voice who always seemed to be waiting for Gunn.

But, of course, Peter’s dangerous work invariably got in the way.

I used to tease Paul because I knew he really wanted to be Peter Gunn. And he honestly looked the part to a T.

In real life, though, I was usually the one who was out was poking around, and he was the one left waiting.

The wallet

So on that night in January, I’m out, doing my middle-aged lady dancing and having a good time with friends from the neighborhood, when I call Paul around 11:30 p.m. to come pick me up.

Begrudgingly, he came, said, “Hi,” to a bunch of the regulars he hadn’t seen in a while and we left around midnight.

The next morning, my phone starts buzzing way too early.

It was my credit and debit card companies calling to tell me someone has been on an all-night shopping spree with my wallet. The charges, something like $800 worth, happened at places all around the city from around midnight until 6 a.m.

That afternoon, Paul and I went down to the cop shop, filed a police report and they gave us a case number.

And that’s where most people would have left it.

But the next week, I got a call from Detective Raymond Carrington of the Des Moines Police Department, who pretty much tells me nothing will come of my report.

Carrington says he is greeted by a new stack of identify theft cases every Monday. He says he doesn’t have time to request surveillance video from every store where the thief used my cards.

So Paul and I sit down and put together a list of all the transactions, the exact time they happened and where.

We sent the list to Carrington, hoping that would help.

For a brief moment, we were excited because Carrington managed to obtain a video from a local Walgreens of a man swiping my card at the exact time of one of the transactions.

And it was better because this man had dyed the hair on the top of his head a really unnatural blond.

Paul took a look at the image and remembered seeing that guy when he picked me up. He said he remembered him because in addition to the blond hair, he had several face piercings.

All those years behind the bar had taught him to keep an eye on people as he worked, and that guy was not a regular.

But Carrington said there still wasn’t much he could do. It’s not like we knew who the wallet thief was, or where we could find him.

So, me being me, I asked: “Would you be willing to send me an image of the wallet thief so I can try to find him myself?”

Carrington really doesn’t have a reason to deny me, so he does.

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Register reporter Lee Rood tells her story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines.(Photo: Michael Zamora/The Register)

The Wallet Thief

At home, Paul and I talk, and I tell him: “You know, I bet if he does it again, he’ll go to the same place at about the same time.”

So after dinner one Friday night, we decide to return to the Wood at about the same time I was there the night the wallet thief struck. We have a look around, but we don’t see him.

I tell Paul I want to go next door to the new dance club that’s opened in the old Ingersoll Dinner Theatre.

He wants to go too, but I tell him he looks too much like a cop.

So I go next door, and there’s a security guard working the front. I tell him what happened, show him the photo on my phone of the wallet thief and ask if I can have a peek inside.

“Sure,” he says, not really interested.

Inside, I scan the room and right away I see him! The guy with the unnatural blond hair is standing about 25 feet from me, between the bar and the dance floor.

I don’t want to lose him, so I scurry up behind him and tap him on shoulder. He turns around and sees me. And I don’t really know what to say, so I ask: “Wanna dance?”

He must have recognized me, because he bolted away without answering.

I hustle over to the security guard and ask him to call police.

We must have watched too much crime TV because I remember telling the security guard that I wanted to make a “citizen’s arrest.”

He calls for a squad car, and I run next door to get Paul.

Two officers show up, and they find out the wallet thief has an outstanding warrant.

So they cuff him, and as they are taking him out to the squad car, he and Paul exchange a few colorful words.

I remember thinking that wasn’t exactly Peter Gunn behavior. But I was really glad Paul was there.

That really should have been the end of it. Except I just can’t help myself.

Back at the office, I look up the wallet thief’s record and realize it’s as long as your arm. He’s got convictions for forgery, petty thefts and first-degree robbery.

I’m talking to Carrington and he says: “Now you know what a predator looks like.”

But I also see that the wallet thief has never faced much consequence for his crimes.

So, me being me, I find out who his probation officer is and let the guy know the wallet thief is facing a new charge.

Months later, I’m called in for a deposition.

Even after all my years of reporting, I missed that the wallet thief and I would be facing each other at this deposition.

I’m a little surprised to see him when I walk in, so I say: “Hi! I’ve been dying to meet you.”

I tell the lawyers that Paul is willing to testify that he saw the wallet thief that night at the Wood, and that he remembered him because he had several face piercings. Only he thought he was wearing a hat that night.

The wallet thief hears this and blurts out: “I wasn’t wearing a hat at the Greenwood!”

(Thanks for putting yourself at the scene, I think.)

In the end, the wallet thief took a plea and got 14 days in jail. I remember thinking that wasn’t enough, but it wasn’t my call.

The prosecutor said he had some life-threatening illness and he risked losing his Social Security if he spent more time in jail.

I wound up writing a Watchdog column about identity theft and told the story of the wallet thief.

Now, that really, really should have been the end of the story.

Especially since in August that year, Paul was diagnosed with a rare cancer. By the time they found it, the cancer had already spread to three places in his brain.

In the months that followed, as we were going from doctor to doctor from the University of Iowa to the Mayo Clinic, I remember thinking that I would give anything if we could have another chance to be together.

But eight months after his diagnosis, the two of us were sitting up again in the middle of night — this time at hospice — saying a long goodbye.

Trevor Soderstrum tells his story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Trevor Soderstrum tells his story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Brian O'Keefe tells his story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Brian O'Keefe tells his story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Brian O'Keefe tells his story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Elle Wignall finishes her story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Elle Wignall tells her story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Elle Wignall tells her story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Register reporter Lee Rood tells her story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Register reporter Lee Rood tells her story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Register reporter Lee Rood tells her story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Chad Hartzler tells his story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Chad Hartzler tells his story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Chad Hartzler tells his story Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Storytelling coaches and tellers take the stage for a final bow Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Storytelling coach Courtney Crowder introduces the next teller Thursday, April 5, 2018, during the Des Moines Storytellers Project's show called "Busted: Stories of When I Got Caught" at the Temple Theater in Des Moines. Michael Zamora/The Register

Second chances

My daughter Lydie had a high school friend who was performing with a troupe of people at The Blazing Saddle in the East Village. Neither of us had been to a burlesque show before, so we went.

It was packed inside as we slowly tried to work our way near the stage.

And then, passing a table near the bar, I see him — the man with the unnatural blond hair.

He looks at me. I look at him. We’re both stupefied.

He comes up to me and says he wants to talk. He’s insistent, so we agree to talk in the men’s bathroom, which was the only quiet place we could find.

Lydie’s got her arms crossed, and she’s trying to look tough, because she knows this guy is a bad apple.

And then he starts to talk.

He tells me that he actually wants to thank me.

He says he’s mentally ill and he’s been drug-addicted most of his adult life.

He says he’d never been able to be clean long enough to stay straight. But those 14 days in jail helped him kick the habit.

He says he does have a fatal disease, but he’s got a job for the first time in a long time. He works at a barber shop, and life is good.

He says I had guts to do what I did, and he even thought about writing a response to the column I had written.

Then, he hugged me and my daughter, and he and his friend just slipped off into the night.

Another thing you learn in my line of work is that there’s always more to the story. And, usually, that story is more interesting than the one you started with.

It’s also true that after the story breaks, people have to go back to living their lives.

Do I believe the wallet thief stayed on the straight and narrow after we met that night?

I don’t know.

But I do know sometimes people would give just about anything for a second chance.

And that night, I thought he deserved his.

ABOUT THE STORYTELLER: Lee Rood has been a reporter and editor at the Des Moines Register for 21 years. In 2012, she created The Reader's Watchdog to help Iowans find answers and seek accountability from government organizations, businesses and nonprofits. Lee wants her obituary to say she walked every Des Moines neighborhood, visited every state and collected sand from more than 200 beaches worldwide.

The Des Moines Storytellers Project is sponsored by Mediacom and Noah's Restaurant.(Photo: Staff)

The next show

"Rural Life: Celebrating our roots and small-town squads" will take the stage at 8:30 p.m., July 12 at the River Center, 320 W. Martin Luther King Jr Parkway. The 5:30 p.m. show is sold-out. Register journalists Linh Ta and Kelly McGowan will host, and the storytellers will be coached by a variety of Register writers.

Become a teller

The Des Moines Storytellers Project strongly believes that everyone HAS a story and everyone CAN tell it. None of the storytellers who take our stage are professionals. They are your neighbors, friends or co-workers, and they are coached to tell by Register journalists.

Want to tell your story at one of our upcoming Storytellers Project events? Read our guidelines and submit a story by clicking "Speak" at DesMoinesRegister.com/Storytellers.

Contact storytelling@dmreg.com for more information.

The 2018 storytelling season

Tickets for the rest of the season are on sale at DesMoinesRegister.com/Storytellers. Subscribers can earn a discount on tickets by using their Insider credentials to unlock a special promo code at checkout. Anyone needing assistance can contact events@dmreg.com or call 515-619-6548.

Rural Life: Celebrating our roots and small-town squads. July 12 at the River Center, Des Moines. Shows at 5:30 p.m. and 8:30 p.m.